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... l echoed.

A single droplet of sweat slid down his chest as the clamps locked around his wrists. Cold steel. Same as every day. Rivan Cross didn't flinch. He just stared at the ceiling above — blank, silver, sterile. No sky, no sun. Just a panel of artificial light that pulsed like a dying heart.

For eighteen years, this was all he knew.

Vault 17 — a government-controlled breeding facility where males weren't humans. They were property. Tools. Sperm donors.

The res ...

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